Harry Potter and the Anarchy in the UK
by ShadowAI
Summary: As a child, Harry's uncles taught him a variety of skills, particularly the love of the art of pranking. In fact, given a barrel of peach jam, a crate of monkeys, and a few hours to prepare he could have Hogwarts on its knees. He called it plan Mongoose.
1. Chapter 1

ShadowAI: Hi gang, here is me again, bringing you this rather mean little plot bunny that lodged itself during a browsing session here on . I had stumbled upon a rather interesting fic, which sounded really good but I never read past the second chapter. Still, I thought it was a fun idea and I decided to write my own take it. This fic is broadly classified as a "For Want of a Nail" story, where a change in the story's past creates a ripple effect on the plot. In this case the change starts with Sirius breaking out much earlier than in the books. The wide reaching consequences of this will be revealed as the story progresses, but I assure you dear reader they are not meant to be ass pulls but products of a carefully crafted chain of causality. My 'buddy' Zaion over there with the stick, is ready to thwack me if I ever screw up just in case.

ZN: Well, this little piece of insanity is just getting started. The other day Shadow dropped me a line about an idea he'd had (I think he mentioned reading a fic that originated it but just didn't do a good job of implementing the idea) that just wouldn't go away. Couple hours of discussion led to this beauty, a piece de resistance that is going to be packed full of pranks, dark lords, half insane guardians, and most likely a fair quantity of jam. It is oh so useful as a pranking tool after all. Jam to jam up doors, make stairs slippery, fill balloons handed off to Peeves and, oh yeah, to fill the water pipes of Krum's cabin. It is a barrel of laughs, a barrel of monkeys, and probably quite a few barrels of Firewhiskey all rolled into one.

**Disclaimer: All governments and nations presented in this fic are purely magical and any similarities to their non-magical counterparts are purely coincidental.**

**Chapter One: In which an International Incident is Nearly Avoided**

"_Harry Potter."_

Utter silence draped the room as the fires of the Goblet crackled slowly. Dmitry had to remind himself to close his mouth. As his mother always chided him, a fly would fly into it if he left it open like that. Once he got over the shock of hearing the name, he started looking around the room to see everyone else's reaction. His fellow schoolmates all showed restrained surprise. The name Harry Potter would not mean much to them outside of a few stories here and there. They were more likely surprised about the announcement of a fourth champion judging by the fact that most of them were now staring at Krum. The current Durmstrang champion did nothing to hide the outrage on his face, a fact that made Dmitry happy even if he didn't outwardly show it. The Bulgarian had spent the entire trip smugly discussing how he was going to win the cup, and Dmitry took some satisfaction from seeing the current champion knocked down a peg. Not that he minded not being picked. His presence here was mostly at the insistence of his father, and Dmitry had a suspicion that it was mostly to observe the students and faculty of the other two of the "Big Three" schools of Magic in Europe.

On the subject of the other schools, the Beauxbatons students across the hall shared his classmates' looks of surprise at the announcement of a fourth champion in the tournament. Dmitry looked over to the French champion, Fleur Delacour, who at that moment had the most adorable little pout on her fa- damn it! That would be that stupid veela charm of hers. Dmitry looked away slowly and cleared his thoughts. He was not unfamiliar with the effects of the veela charm; his father had cautioned him against it during the World Cup that took place this summer. Luckily she wasn't a full veela, if she was she wouldn't be allowed a wand nor would Dmitry be able to so easily shake off her charm. Still veela or no, the blonde was very beautiful and she looked amazing in her uniform which brought out the azure blue of her eye- damn it!

The Hogwarts champion, Dmitry forgot his name, looked rather lost as if the news didn't particularly register with him quite yet. The rest of the Hogwarts population, on the other hand, looked like an ant hill that had been kicked over. Everyone was looking around at each other and whispering rather loudly. He caught a few snippets but ignored them, anyone who knew anything useful would have kept their mouth shut. While the champions stood in limbo on stage, waiting to see if they were going to be sent to the side room, Dmitry finally turned his attention to the Hogwarts faculty and the headmasters of the three schools. The Beauxbatons Headmaster he knew little about, although he suspected she either had giant blood or had recreated Wonderland's growing cakes. She too looked surprised and rather unhappy about the turn of events, nothing interesting.

Albus Dumbledore, Dmitry's father had warned Dmitry about him. Behind the long white beard and half-moon spectacles, the man had one of the best neutral faces Dmitry had seen, maybe even better than his father's. The man was a master politician with almost a century of experience under his belt. Every one of those years showed as his eyes swept across the room before he announced again: "Harry Potter." He was trying to get a reaction out of someone. Dmitry wasn't sure if his own face gave anything away but he carefully averted his gaze from Dumbledore when the old wizard turned his attention to the Durmstrang table.

To give the man credit, Dmitry's own Highmaster, Igor Karkaroff, did a good job of keeping his face even. Dmitry had seen worse attempts from some of his father's aides. According to father, Karkaroff was afraid of Dumbledore and it seems his father was right on the money. Karkaroff avoided meeting Dumbledore's face and didn't do the best job of keeping the guilt from being noticeable. Dmitry then turned to look at the rest of Hogwart's faculty. Most had expressions of shock and surprise that resembled their charges' although they had the grace not to gossip like them. There were two main exceptions. The first was a rather pale man who wore black robes and had rather unkempt and dirty-looking black hair. His expression reminded Dmitry of when his father refused to support Senator Yuschenko's proposal on an import tax. The lack of support caused the senator to lose his position in the next election and he always made a similar expression when he met with his father. Either that professor really disliked Dumbledore, or he really disliked Harry Potter for some reason. Dmitry made a note of him.

The last person that stood out was a scarred and haggard looking man. The most unsettling thing about him was that one of his eyes was different from the other. The more normal one was staring directly at Highmaster Karkaroff. The other, an unnaturally round electric blue one, was swiveling freely in its metallic socket. More than being unsettling, Dmitry noted that it was shifting its gaze between only two tables, one of which was Dmitry's. The expression on that man's face was also familiar to Dmitry. His father referred to those people as bloodhounds, very good at picking up a scent and following it single-mindedly. The man did nothing to hide his bias against Durmstrang, and Dmitry filed him away as a threat accordingly.

"Well, what'd you do with him Karkaroff?" The haggard man barked, causing the whispers from the Hogwarts students to quiet. Highmaster Karkaroff barely flinched and turned to face his accuser.

"I'm not sure what you mean, Alastor." He replied thinly.

"Well then why do you look like you got caught with your hand in the cookie jar?" The other man growled.

The Highmaster did not respond immediately, rather he stood still for a while, deciding on his answer, "I do not have a Harry Potter in Durmstrang." It was a well formed lie, if the question of Harry Potter attending Durmstrang had come up. Instead, it was a rather blatant mistake. After a few seconds the Highmaster seemed to have caught on to his mistake and he paled. The man called Alastor smiled viciously.

As he was about to call Karkaroff out on his gaffe, Dumbledore cut him off, "Perhaps we should discuss this in my office Igor? Olympe?" Although it was formed as a question, it was anything but. Dumbledore was firm and forceful with that statement, and Karkaroff nodded before following him and the French Headmistress out of the Great Hall.

As soon as the doors shut a fury of whispers broke out between the students, with more than a few glances shot towards the table at which Durmstrang was sitting. Most were not friendly. Whispers turned into murmurs, which turned into open discussion and speculation. Dmitry noted with amusement that the three champions were left unceremoniously standing on the stage in favor of this new development. Krum's indignation was priceless.

Still, Dmitry thought, things were just getting started. Since the Goblet, as he was told, was a binding magical contract, there would be no choice but to bring Harry here. An hour passed and the student populace grew restless. Finally the doors to the Great Hall opened as the various Headmasters returned to the room. What got Dmitry's attention was the squad of black-robed wizards that followed Karkaroff with the seal of Durmstrang sewed onto their uniforms. These were Durmstrang's private aurors. They were not normally seen and were hired to placate the parents of Durmstrang's students, mostly due to the high profile nature of the students. Bringing aurors into a crowded room full of children was foolish, which meant Karkaroff was scared. Which meant Harry was coming, which meant Dmitry's father was coming.

Dmitry suppressed a chuckle. Harry, seemingly not content with last years' shenanigans, decided to start off his fourth year with an international incident. Nice.

Dmitry's friendship with Harry ran way back into Harry's first year at Durmstrang. It was Dmitry's father, Nikolai Andreievich Nizin, who granted Harry and his guardian Sirius Black asylum in Ukraine and provided them with new identities. When Harry had entered Durmstrang, Dmitry's father advised Dmitry to befriend Harry, partly to keep an eye on Harry, partly to have Dmitry make a new acquaintance, as you can never have too many of those.

Despite Harry's outward appearance as a quiet, well mannered, studious, and sometimes silly, boy he was anything but. Harry Potter was a force of entropy, spreading chaos wherever he went. It was this trait that made Dmitry rather fond of Harry as there was never a dull day with him around. Despite his father's cautions about choosing your friends, Dmitry found himself rather attached to Harry and became a big brother of sorts to him and his merry band of misfits.

Dmitry recalled that the first real prank Harry had pulled was done in retaliation. The German upper forms, Durmstrang was mostly split among countries of origin rather than houses, decided to haze the first-years by spiking their drinks, then stripping them of their clothes and writing nicknames and some profanities all over the naked boys' faces with very hard to remove ink. While this kind of hazing was the norm for Durmstrang, Harry had taken it as a declaration of war. The next week the entire German dormitory was flooded with rotting sauerkraut. Oh Harry never _admitted_ to doing anything, however Dmitry had noticed he looked quite smug when the Germans showed up for breakfast that day glaring murderously at the student populace. As a cherry on top, since the German wizards were rather nationalistic and tended to belittle other countries, seeing them fish for sympathy from their former targets so they could find a place to sleep that didn't smell like a troll's bathroom was rather satisfying.

Still, the current events seemed to be too much, even for Harry's brand of chaos.

The doors of the Great Hall opened again and Dmitry's mirth was dampened as the British Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, and Head of the department of International Magical Cooperation, Bartemius Crouch entered, flanked by British aurors. The two groups of aurors stared each other down as the British heads of government joined Dumbledore at the front of the room. At least that explained why Karkaroff summoned his aurors. If the British government tried to somehow undermine his authority he would have no choice but to oppose them.

Fifteen minutes later, the doors opened for a third time, silencing what few vestiges of conversation remained. Dmitry almost chortled as, instead of his father, Jean-Pierre Delacour, French Minister of Foreign Affairs entered the room. Now they were being ridiculous. Of course the French would shove their noses into a turf war that had nothing to do with them, Dmitry mused as the somewhat short man walked up to his daughter and exchanged the traditional kiss on the cheek while the squad of French aurors stood a few steps back and sized up their opponents.

Another forty uncomfortably slow minutes passed before the doors opened for the fourth time, startling several people. Dmitry caught his father's eye as he stepped through the door alongside Vladimir Mikhailovich Timoshenko, Magical Ukraine's current Prime Minister. A squad of Ukranian aurors, dressed in traditional blue and yellow robes flanked them as they strode through the room. When the next trio emerged from the doors, Dmitry was pleasantly surprised that it in fact _was_ possible for it to be quieter than it had been, and somewhat disappointed that he lacked a pin or a feather to see if it in fact he could hear it drop.

On the left, wearing regal black robes and carrying himself with an air of aristocratic aloofness was Harry's primary guardian, Sirius Black. On his right, although not _as_ intimidating, stood Harry's other guardian, Remus Lupin. Dmitry had met the two during several school functions and had found them to be quite amiable and friendly. They had also provided an explanation for Harry's ability to spread chaos where ever he went. Sandwiched between the two men stood a young boy with messy unkempt black hair and dazzling green eyes that were looking around the room. Dmitry shifted his eyes on Harry, who looked back at him and blinked, twice.

In Harry's first year in Durmstrang, Harry had devised a system of non-verbal communication which he employed very effectively in his pranks. Any communication was preceded with eye contact and two blinks. The other person could do one of four things in response. Break contact, which meant _I can't talk and neither can you_. Blink once, _I can't talk_. Blink twice, _I can talk_. Or wink once, _talk later_. Dmitry blinked twice.

Harry moved his right arm slowly across, and rubbed the upper part of his left arm with it. _I didn't do anything/I have no idea what I'm in trouble for/I'm innocent._

Dmitry nodded barely a centimeter as a general sign of acknowledgement. Then he ran his fingers through his hair: _Don't worry about it/You'll be fine._

Harry blinked twice, ending the conversation, and turned away.

"Sirius Black!" The British minister began accusingly as he turned to Dmitry's father."You have some nerve to bring that felon here. Aurors, arrest Black!" Although hesitant, the British law enforcement officers advanced. As the Ukranian aurors prepared to duel, Prime Minister Timoshenko stepped in.

"It would seem that my esteemed British colleague has forgotten the protocol for diplomatic immunity." The man spat, causing the British aurors to pause as their Ukranian counterparts moved to screen their charges.

"That man is a wanted _felon_." Crouch almost screamed, "There _is_ no protocol except immediate arrest and sentencing."

"It saddens me," Dmitriy's father began, his soft tone contrasting the Prime Ministers' harsh one, "to see that the country of Britain has reduced its system of justice to the whims of its minister."

"How dare you-"

"No, Minister Fudge," The prime minister cut him off, slipping even further into his accent, "how dare _you_ accuse a man without evidence, without trial, based on hearsay and political backroom deals, and then try to enforce your tyranny onto a legitimate citizen of our nation whom my colleague has _personally_ granted political asylum?" Timoshenko had been a well received prime minister in Ukraine, known for his emphatic patriotic speeches and nationalistic pride. Although Timoshenko and Dmitry's father often disagreed on things, they worked well together, particularly when Dmitry's father's cool and logical tone complimented Timoshenko's scathing remarks.

"The man is _clearly_ a criminal, he was a supporter of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, a mass murderer, and he has broken out of Azkaban and kidnapped poor Harry."

"Well, I suppose I can't argue against his break out from Azkaban since he is right here." Dmitry's father began, earning a light chuckle from a few, "you have no concrete evidence to accuse him of any of the other crimes you have listed."

"There were countless witnesses who saw him raise the wand to kill those people."

"_Muggle_ witnesses." Vladimir cut him off, "Witnesses who cannot tell a blasting curse from a tickling hex." Fudge glared back.

"He was there, he raised his wand, it was _him._" And now Dmitry thought Fudge sounded like a two year old throwing a tantrum.

"Minister Fudge, your utter incompetence when it comes to this case is astonishing." His father began harshly.

"Now see here, Nick,"

"You will address me as Nikolai Andreievich, Minister. And you will _not_ interrupt me. As I said, at no point did you offer Mr. Black a chance to explain his actions. Much less your so called 'evidence' against him is circumstantial and not enough to prove he had done the deeds you claim he had. Even by the standards of _your _law. Although it is true Mr. Black had escaped Azkaban, given that he was unjustly placed there to begin with makes the severity of that charge much less. Lastly, why do you assume he kidnapped Harry Potter? Have you not entertained the notion that Harry chose to come with Mr. Black voluntarily?" There was silence in the room as all eyes shifted to Harry.

Dmitry took this pause to reflect. Whether or not Black was guilty, despite appearances, was not an important issue here. Ukraine was guilty of harboring and assisting a fugitive and, judging by the local hatred of Durmstrang, corrupting the Boy-Who-Lived. Justified or not, it would make Ukraine seem untrustworthy globally. The rather aggressive attacks against Minister Fudge were meant to weaken his position at the expense of more stained relations in the future, thus granting Ukraine some form of leverage. Also a political victory here would give Ukraine a certain measure of respect globally, hopefully lessening the fallout that would happen when the news of Ukraine harboring a fugitive would break out.

"Is this true Harry?" Dumbledore asked softly, breaking the silence, "Did you go with Sirius because you wanted to?"

Harry looked up at Dumbledore before replying meekly, "Yes sir." Several gasps followed and a wave of whispers swept across the room.

"Nonsense, he has clearly been brainwashed by Dark Magic." Fudge accused.

"Minister Fudge," Timoshenko said, "why do you insist on embarrassing yourself and your country so much? Your claim is outrageous and is based only in your fantasies. Are you going to accuse Headmaster Dumbledore of training an army of students to rise up against you next?" Fudge's bulging eye balls caused Dmitry to almost laugh. How such a paranoid nutcase got elected into office was beyond him. Dmitry's father had always said he disliked the French and the British ministries. Both solved problems by either throwing money or aurors at until they were deemed fixed. With that kind of attitude it was no wonder Fudge made such an idiot out of himself here.

He had tried to use intimidation to bully Dmitry's father around with the hopes that by having public support and a home field advantage he would get his way. It failed, Dmitry's father and the Ukranian Prime Minister were both rather aggressive in their dealings with other countries and it had often paid off well, particularly now when Fudge had no choice but to concede to save face. It was a risky move though, had they not been as aggressive they would have seemed as if they were in Sirius' pocket thus losing any credibility. Their actions were not unlike a gambler placing all of their assets on the line in hopes of intimidating their opponent to withdraw.

"I theenk zat we have 'ad enough hostilities for tonight?" Jean-Pierre said, reaffirming his presence in the room. "And I do believe ze children should not be 'eld 'ostage while we discuss ze matter." Dmitry was somewhat surprised at Jean-Pierre's skill of feigning amusement at a rather tense situation. Dmitry mentally kicked himself for ignoring the short Frenchman, it seems that his presence here was anything but decorative. Judging by how he was now appraising the two sides in the argument, Dmitry assumed that Jean-Pierre would support whichever side managed to gain the sympathy vote, making the French wizarding government look good with very little risk. "May I propose we move ze discussion to ze side room?" The various parties nodded and began to exit the room. Before leaving, Dumbledore asked the professors to send their students to bed and the remaining Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students to return to their quarters. Dmitry was somewhat disappointed that he would not see the second round of talks. Crouch and especially Dumbledore would prove to be far more difficult opponents than Fudge was. Still, either his father or Harry would recount the story to him later.

As Dmitry got up he noticed that Krum's face had a mixture of confusion and irritation on it. Dmitry had almost forgotten about that in all the excitement. Krum and Harry had established a rather notable rivalry on the Quidditch pitch. Now that both have been chosen as champions, that rivalry seemed like it would come to a head. The fact that Krum tried his hardest to deny that any rivalry between him and Harry existed just made this aspect of the turn of events the cherry on top.

Dmitry couldn't suppress a chuckle as the tension was slowly ebbing out of the room. He felt a few stares from his classmates on his back. His friendship with Harry wasn't exactly a secret. That on top of the fact that his father had just recently dressed down the British Minister of Magic would most likely lead to more than a few questions. Still he couldn't help himself. This evening has proved to be the most fun he had in a while. As he looked around he found that not only Krum, but that gorgeous French beauty Fleur was also looking at him in confusion. Was that the veela charm again? Aww hell, he didn't particularly care too much now, and in spite of himself blew her a kiss. She narrowed her adorable eyebrows and with a huff looked away. Alas, Dmitry thought, she was truly a stunningly beautiful little French bitch.

_End_


	2. Chapter 2

ShadowAI: Hello, me again. I wasn't sure if it was a good idea to update so quickly but since Zaion and I had been at it, discussing the various twists and turns I decided I was safe in publishing this so quickly. Also I'm having quite a bit of fun writing this fic, unlike my others it's light-hearted romp and doesn't slow down for the scenery too much, although there _are_ a few moments where I feel some more description could probably help. Oh well. Also I should mention that this chapter is probably the last seriously political one for a while. As much fun as I had actually trying to figure out how the various parties would try to maneuver around each other, this fic is mostly about Harry and the chaos he brings with him so there will ideally be more of that. Also since while writing this I felt myself slip into the familiar territory of Manipulative!Dumbledore I now feel the need to say this. While, yes, he will be manipulative here, and I will call Mrs. Rowling out on some of the stuff she pulled (I'm looking at _you_ Deathly Hallows) it is not my intent to simply bash Dumbledore, nor will Ukraine be presented as a magical (ha ha ha) solution to the problem of Harry's childhood. Ok I'm done ranting, now go read, shoo shoo.

Zaion: Greetings and welcome to another installment of Anarchy in the UK. As you may or may not have noticed there has been a shocking absence of jam. I apologize for this oversight, but I assure you that your patience shall be rewarded. Well, maybe, if the solicitors ever agree to settle on the therapy bills for the little ponce…*voice drifts off into random grumbling.*

_ShadowAI: Hey, I thought we weren't supposed to mention that particular incident._

**Disclaimer: Yes, there **_**are**_** wizard Discos. No, you**_** don't**_** want to know.**

**Chapter Two: In which Harry Potter has a Rather Strange Day.**

Harry walked out of the little side room into the large dining hall of Hogwarts, his mind still processing the events that just passed. In the span of the last two hours, he had been taken from his room in Durmstrang, whisked all the way across Europe to the United Kingdom, and sat through a very tense discussion between Dima's dad, his uncles, Highmaster Karkaroff, and several other very important people. In short, Harry Potter has had a rather strange day.

In sharp contrast to the latest events, Harry's day started rather normally. He woke up at seven, had breakfast at eight, and attended classes until four in the afternoon. Dueling and Defense had been rather boring today due to the class being a dry lecture on Banshees. His Spellwork class, however, had been quite fun as they had learned the summoning charm, a spell which Harry had learned a year ago. To amuse himself he had 'failed' several attempts to summon the marbles they were practicing with, causing them to hit other people instead. In particular, he had combined the summoning charm with a very discreet levitation charm that caused a small marble to shoot into some poor kid's nose. The poor boy's comical attempts to blow the marble out of his nose had provided Harry with quite a bit of entertainment.

After classes Harry had eaten lunch, and returned to his room to nap and wait for six o'clock. Twice a week, Harry and his closest friends had met in private in an old, drafty, and unused room in the castle's basement to conduct the secret meetings of the Durmstrang Chapter of the Marauders. Today's meeting had been quite productive despite the absence of two members, one official and one honorary. Harry had even presented his idea for a potential Christmas prank involving animation charms, fire-breathing potion, a cow, and the Durmstrang choir. There were some concerns from Ed about the difficulty of executing a choreographed waltz by three dozen burning trees but Harry had assured him the spells were trivial enough so long as they didn't try to do anything too fancy. Sadly, the logistical issue of getting a cow into Durmstrang caused them to file the plan away as a 'backup' under the name "Operation Panic at the Disco."

After the meeting had adjourned, Harry returned to his room, where he and his roommate Constantine worked through their Language class essay on their summer vacation. The essay was a dreadful bore and it was _always_ assigned to them in Language class at the beginning of every year to gauge their writing ability. As Harry was still daydreaming about dancing trees instead of doing his homework, he was interrupted by an abrupt: "Harry Mavros."

Harry stopped writing. The person who had just spoken was Head Administrator Lisiewicz the acting Highmaster while Highmaster Karkaroff was away in Britain for the Triwizard Tournament. Both Highmaster Karkaroff and H.A. Lisiewicz had never particularly liked Harry, mostly because whenever there was any sort of trouble it tended to be related to him, not without good reason. Harry had taken it upon himself to shake up the school's status quo where children from wealthy and influential families managed to get away with murder. The complaining from parents of children, such as those that could not handle being turned purple in the middle of their valedictorian speech while their clothes suddenly turned into a ballerina costume, had given both Karkaroff and Lisiewicz constant migraines.

More than startled or intimidated, Harry had been confused. He had done nothing so far that would have merited the acting Highmaster to come for him personally. Certainly neither Al nor Ed would have tried to do anything notable on their own, nor had their hideout been discovered as Harry would have known. Perhaps someone else had pulled a prank and Harry was on the short list of suspects? As Harry mused on the prospects of a potential rival, and he would need one since Krum would be graduating, Lisiewicz ordered Harry to follow him to the Highmaster's office. Harry had spent the quiet seven minute walk through the dark corridors of Durmstrang thinking back on his actions since the start of the year and even on pranks pulled off in the past three years to determine if there was anywhere he could have slipped up. Certainly some of his earlier pranks were not as airtight, but given how long it's been Harry doubted they were the reason behind this situation. Furthermore, it would be Karkaroff more than Lisiewicz who would be trying to figure out the unsolved cases of Harry's earlier pranks since it was Karkaroff who got yelled at by parents of angry students.

The fourth floor of the Durmstrang castle was dedicated to the offices and living quarters for all of the faculty and faculty apprentices. The halls were larger, brighter, cleaner, and better decorated. While not a constant visitor here, Harry had been to the sixth floor several times in his three going on four years at Durmstrang. Only occasionally had they been pleasant visits. Having not come up with any explanation for his summons, Harry began to mentally prepare himself for the inevitable interrogation. Harry had learned early on that swallowing his pride was a better tactic than stubborn resistance. The Durmstrang faculty had little patience for childish rebellion and generally looked down on its students, not to mention the fact that they were not above using violence if frustrated enough. Harry had learned that if he looked intimidated enough, cried, and babbled incoherently he would leave the office faster and with fewer bruises then if he tried to outlast the professors. He had not done this on only one occasion to date and only on a matter of principle.

As they reached the end of the slightly better-lit faculty corridor, Lisiewicz opened the doors of the Highmaster office. An out-of-place yet familiar scent of strong piney tea reached Harry's nose, comforting him. He had grown used to that smell as it was always present in Dima's father's office. Although somewhat calmed, a new sense of worry began to arise when the door closed behind him and the significance of the occupants of the Highmaster's office sunk in. Although travel between the magical nations in Eastern Europe was easier than in Western Europe, it was still uncommon and strictly regulated. Neither Dima's dad nor Harry's uncles visited him often in Durmstrang and to see all of them gathered in the Highmaster's office along with the Ukrainian Prime Minister had set of red flags in Harry's brain. Either he was in trouble, or-

"Is Dima all right?" Harry blurted out, worried that something bad happened to one of his best friends.

"Relax Harry," Mr. Nizin said as he sipped his tea. "Dmitry is quite healthy." He then chuckled oddly, as if the situation was anything but funny. "If anything he probably finds the recent turn of events amusing." He added, with only barely an accent noticeable in his smooth German.

Harry relaxed a bit, if Dima was fine then there was no immediate danger. Still, it meant that Harry himself had been the reason behind this gathering. Harry looked around the room to get some idea of how much trouble he was in. Mr. Nizin, as always, looked calm and collected as he slowly sipped his tea. Harry had never seen the man act surprised or angry or sad. Dima had told Harry that even at home his dad acted that way. Prime Minister Timoshenko simply looked irritated. Harry had never met or spoken with the man so he didn't know if it was a bad thing or a really bad thing. With a mental chuckle harry noted that the Prime Minister was eating a rather delicious looking raspberry Danish which he had undoubtedly brought with him. Jam had been phased out of the Durmstrang's kitchens since Harry's second year.

Harry turned his attention to his uncles and he felt his heart skip a beat. Uncle Padfoot and Uncle Moony were _always _cheerful. Even when it was "that time of the month" as Uncle Padfoot put it, Uncle Moony had merely looked tired but was still cracking jokes. Now they looked like they did every year on Halloween. If they didn't think this was a laughing matter, then things were really bad.

"Although I don't think it's necessary," Mr. Nizin's voice caused harry to flinch, "I still have to ask. Did you put your name in the Goblet of Fire?"

Harry blinked, that sounded familiar. Racking his brain he suddenly remembered the conversation he had with Toshi and Dima a week and a half ago at their last Marauder meeting before the two left for Britain with the rest of the Tri-Wizard hopefuls. The goblet, Dima told him, was used to choose the participants. If the situation had been slightly more relaxed Harry would have laughed the idea off. While it would certainly be an interesting prank, it would also put him in the spotlight, not to mention make him travel all the way to Britain. Harry did not want to do that.

"No sir, I didn't" Harry said somewhat quietly to keep his voice from trembling.

"Thank you Harry, I didn't think you would." Mr. Nizin said smoothly.

"That's it?" High Administrator Lisiewicz spoke up, "This school and your country's reputations are on the line and you will simply take him at his word?"

"Yes." Mr. Nizin replied without changing his tone, "Not only is my son a close friend of Harry's, but I have come to know him and his guardians quite well myself, better than you ever will Mr. Lisiewicz. So you can take comfort in the fact that if I feel Harry is telling us the truth, then he probably is." Although Mr. Nizin didn't sound the least bit angry, Harry heard the man behind him gulp. "Besides," he added, "even if Harry had somehow managed to enter himself into the tournament, he would not be foolish enough to do it under his real name."

It was Harry's turn to gulp as he suddenly felt his throat dry up. Only a handful of people knew that his name wasn't real. Even fewer people knew what his real name was. If the name 'Harry Potter' appeared anywhere, much less in front of the heads of three of the most prominent wizarding schools in Europe, it would cause the old rumors to resurface and with that the threat of Harry being forced to move somewhere else became very real.

"I see you understand the situation." Mr. Nizin spoke, startling Harry. Dima's father had an unnerving ability to tell what Harry was thinking even without Leglimency. "Unfortunately we have no choice but to take you to Britain immediately. Now that the jig is up, so to speak, we would be better off if we came clean." Harry nodded, not sure if that was also directed to him as a life lesson of sorts. "Is the portkey ready?" Mr. Nizin asked Lisiewicz.

The Head Administrator, turned around and opened one of the large pine doors before yelling, "Puxov!" Within a few seconds a rather nervous looking young man arrived at the office out of breath. "Is it ready?"

The young man nodded, before producing a plain looking quill which Lisiewicz took from him. "The password is 'Durmstrang'." He added before turning around and leaving quickly without being dismissed. Lisiewicz closed the door and handed the quill to Mr. Nizin, who stood up along with everyone else who was previously seated.

"What is it?" Harry had asked, although he had a few guesses already.

"An international portkey to the outskirts of Hogwarts in Scotland." Mr. Nizin answered. "Normally rather difficult to procure, but given the rather sensitive situation, the process had been expedited. Is everyone ready?" Harry nodded, though he wasn't ready in the least. "Good, gather round, and make sure you are holding on to someone." Sirius stood on Harry's left and placed a hand on Harry's left shoulder, while Remus took up a similar spot to Harry's right. With a final look around the small circle, Mr. Nizin nodded and clearly intoned: "Durmstrang." Then Harry felt the familiar sensation of a portkey tugging him by his belly.

Having experienced portkey travel several times before Harry barely stumbled as they landed. The first thing Harry noticed as his eyes began to adjust to the darkness was that Scotland was pleasantly breezy and that Harry didn't even need his heavy parka while he was outside. The second thing he noticed was that waiting for them were a dozen or so rather serious looking men wearing blue robes and the Ukrainian trident stitched in yellow on their chests. Aurors.

"Erast Petrovich." Mr. Nizin said with a smile as he stepped forward extending his hand and switching to Russian. "It's good to see you again. I trust your trip to the Land of the Rising Sun had been pleasant?"

The man being addressed, a rather young looking brown-haired man in his late twenties, stepped forward taking Mr. Nizin's hand and shaking it. "It was rather p-pleasant Nikolai Andreievich." The man named Erast responded. Upon getting a closer look, Harry had noted that the man had gray hairs near his temples. "There was a French d-diplomat that arrived an hour earlier. He asked me to s-send you his regards." He added with a slight stutter. Harry wasn't sure if the man was simply cold or always spoke that way.

"Well, good to see Jean-Pierre has agreed to come." Mr. Nizin said. "Although I suspect he really took it as an excuse to congratulate his daughter on becoming the Beauxbatons champion personally. Still, with him there the British will have to play nice, something I know their Minister doesn't like doing. Shall we go then?" The Ukrainian aurors spread out and encircled the group and together they began walking toward the castle.

As they were about to enter Hogwarts through the gate a rather large figure approached them. Standing somewhere between eight and nine feet tall and carrying a lantern stood a rather imposing bearded miniature giant. He stopped in front of them and swept his eyes over the entire Ukrainian party. As Harry was studying the man he noticed that the man's eyes settled on him. After a few awkward moments the freakishly tall man spoke.

"Wouldn'ta recognized him if it were'n fer his eyes. They look jus' like Lily's." Harry's English had never been particularly good, and he had been planning to take Russian as his second language requirement until Dima convinced him to take English. So the man's accent combined with the fact that he had been chewing over the words as he spoke made the tall man very difficult for Harry to understand. Harry caught the word 'eyes' and his mother's name and frowned. "Righ' then, I'll be takin' him to Dumbledore." The man spoke a bit more clearly. Harry's eyes narrowed at the mention of Dumbledore. Harry's opinion of Dumbledore wasn't particularly high since it was Dumbledore's fault he had been forced to live with _them_. Harry might not have perfectly understood the giant man's words but he understood his intent and took an instinctive step back as the tall man stepped toward him.

"May I ask, who you are, exactly?" For the first time this evening Harry heard the Prime Minister speak. His English was even more accented than the bearded man's, although Harry could understand the thick Ukrainian accent better.

"Oh yes, almost forgot, Rubeus Hagrid, keeper of the grounds and keys of Hogwarts." The tall man said drawing himself up.

"I see." The Prime Minister said, stepping forward in front of the group. Suddenly Harry regretted not bringing his parka. "Well Rubeus Hagrid, let me explain to you _my_ situation. An hour ago my aide interrupts a very important Parliamentary hearing to tell me that British Government is demanding we surrender to them Harry Potter. For last hour I have been making calls, writing letters, and rescheduling my entire week so I can come here and tell the half-senile _crackpot_ that runs this school that just because _he_ cannot maintain order, does not mean my government will hand over legitimate citizens of Ukraine on a _whim_."

Hagrid's eyes narrowed, "Dumbledore is a great wizard." He began, voice dangerously low, "greater tha' you and all the witches an' wizards in yer sorry country combined." Harry winced, bad move, "An' nobody insults Albus Dumbledore in front of _me_." The giant barked the last word for emphasis and raised, what looked like, a pink umbrella.

The Prime Minister, unmoving, stared down a man who was at least a head taller than him. When he next spoke, Harry shivered, "And nobody," he hissed, "makes a fool out of _me._ _You_ will either move out of my way, or I will move you personally." Harry had barely missed it as the Prime Minister drew his wand. They stood tense for a few seconds, before Hagrid slowly stepped to the side. As they walked past Hagrid, Harry noticed that the man kept his eyes on Harry and his uncles. It unnerved Harry and he walked quickly to make sure he was out of the man's sight as fast as possible.

A two minute walk later they had entered Hogwarts and were in the main hallway in front of a large marble staircase. They wheeled left and approached a pair of beautiful giant doors. As they were about to enter Mr. Nizin stopped Harry and pulled him aside while motioning for everyone to stop. "Harry." The man began quietly in Russian, "Dima tells me you have come up with a sign language?" Harry nodded dumbly. "Good, so when we go in there I propose we have a code." He lifted his left arm and showed Harry a metallic band with a square in the middle and some odd lines. "If I am adjusting my wristwatch then no matter what anyone says, do not speak. Wait, and let someone else answer any questions that are asked." Harry nodded in understanding and Mr. Nizin continued. "If, however, I adjust my glasses," he demonstrated by pushing the horn-rimmed glasses up his nose, "then it means you can talk. When you do, make your answers short, truthful, and most importantly confident. Don't ever let them doubt you." Again, Harry nodded and Mr. Nizin smiled reassuringly before walking back toward the rest of the group. "After you Vladimir Mikhailovich" he said and to the Prime Minister. The Prime Minister grunted in response and nodded for the aurors to open the door.

While they stood in the main hall of the castle, Harry could hear conversation coming from the other side of the double doors. As soon as the doors opened, however, all conversation ceased. As Harry stared toward the enormous banquet hall and the large of amount of people sitting and standing in the room he felt his feet wobble a bit. The aurors entered the room first, followed by the two Ukrainian officials. Harry hesitated, not particularly eager to be at the center of attention of all those people. He felt a hand slowly nudge him from behind and noticed that Uncle Padfoot was pushing forward. With a shaky breath Harry slowly entered the giant room.

As soon as Harry had entered the large hall he had a miniature panic attack as he felt everyone's gaze turn to him. It was very unnerving and Harry felt his lips dry up. There whole place was packed with students of various ages, not unlike Durmstrang's dining hall. The scale, however, was much larger. Harry quickly found the table where everyone seated had been dressed in Durmstang's red and black uniforms. Although Harry did not know most of the students there, the sight of the familiar fur-lined jackets was a small comfort in a sea of unfamiliar students. Harry first started searching for Toshi, as his distinct hairstyle would make him easier to find. To Harry's slight disappointment he was nowhere to be seen, however he noticed Dima's familiar gray eyes staring at him from the middle of the table. Harry had seen Dima's current expression before, usually after Harry had pulled a rather flashy prank. He was outwardly passive but inwardly amused.

Harry blinked twice hoping that Dmitry might give him an appraisal of the situation. Dima blinked twice in response, affirming that they could 'talk'. Harry rubbed his left arm in a signal that meant that he was wrongfully accused. Harry almost didn't catch Dima's nod in response. Dima then ran his fingers through his hair. The non-verbal system had been partially designed in case they were caught so they could plan a course of action without incriminating themselves. Naturally these conversations were meant to take a few seconds so that no one would catch on. Blinking twice, already feeling they had spent too long communicating, Harry ended the conversation and turned in the same direction as the adults he came here with.

At the end of the hall opposite to the doors stood an elevated table surrounded by several serious looking figures, some of them were wearing heavy robes similar to the ones worn by the Ukrainian aurors only light grey. Standing in front of all of them was a giant golden cup with blue flames shooting out of it. Over to one side of the room, Harry noticed out of the corner of his eye, stood three students each wearing one of the schools' uniforms. Harry did not have time to make any of them out as his eyes focused on goblet and the rather tense collection of adults eyeing the Ukrainian delegation.

A somewhat short, grey-haired, man dressed in a pinstripe suit and a bowler hat stepped forward, eyes narrowed and looking to Harry's left, and exclaimed, "Sirius Black!" Harry tensed. Harry knew full well why Uncle Sirius had changed his name to Mavros and adopted Harry under the assumed name and that should Sirius ever set foot on British soil there was a good chance he would be sent back to the prison he was kept in. The man in the bowler then looked over to Mr. Nizin and ordered the men in the grey robes, whom Harry reasoned to be British aurors, to arrest Sirius. The Ukrainian aurors moved to screen Harry and the diplomats when the Prime Minister stepped forward and, for the second time tonight, confronted a threat.

As the Ukrainian diplomats and the man in the bowler, the Prime Minister had called him Fudge, began a rather heated argument, Harry used all of his self-control not to reach for his wand. If British aurors were as good as the Ukranian ones then Harry would probably set them off by grabbing it, despite his instincts screaming at him to arm himself. Meanwhile the argument switched topics from Sirius Black to Harry, and after Mr. Nizin said that Harry had come with his uncle voluntarily he once again felt the eyes of the room looking at him. Of course Harry left willingly, Britain held nothing but bad memories for him, and if anything Harry had wished Sirius would have rescued him earlier.

"Is this true Harry?" A very old looking man wearing silver robes with a rather impressive beard had addressed him in a quiet tone. Harry turned to the speaker, hesitating. He knew the man had to be Dumbledore as the old wizard had been described to Harry by several people. "Did you go with Sirius because you wanted to?" Dumbledore asked. Harry fought desperately the urge to tell the old fool to shove it. Instead Harry stole a glance at Mr. Nizin, who had been adjusting his glasses at the time.

Harry then shifted his glare back to Dumbledore, trying to come up with something political to say that conveyed how he _really_ felt about the bastard that had sent him to live with the _Dursleys_. Dumbledore's eyes stared into his own from beyond his half-moon spectacles. They were similarly distant to those of Mr. Nizin. Mr. Nizin, however had not condemned Harry to four years of misery living with people who could not stand your existence and without any idea why. Despite all the various things he wanted to scream at the bearded man Harry settled on "Yes Sir." Not trusting himself to keep his composure beyond that. A wave of furious whispers broke out as he said it, and Dumbledore had actually seemed sad for a moment. Harry was not entirely unsure it had been his imagination though.

The argument continued for another minute before, at the suggestion of the French minister, everyone involved except the aurors went into a small room which had several odd trinkets and various moving instruments. The various parties arranged themselves in a circle and stood quietly waiting to see who will yield the floor.

"Nikolai, I am a bit curious as to why your country has offered to shelter Sirius Black all these years without informing anyone." Said one of the British officials in a more respectful tone than Fudge.

"It was a rather difficult decision on my part, however Mr. Black's case was brought to me by a mutual friend and after an investigation I had believed that Mr. Black is not anything like the criminal he had been made out to be. I felt it my duty to help a fellow wizard in need." Mr. Nizin said smoothly before adding. "In fact, as you can clearly see he has been a dutiful guardian of young Harry."

"Except of course he enrolled him into Durmstrang." Spat Fudge.

"Are you trying to insinuate something about _my_ school, Minister?" Karkaroff asked.

"What I think Cornelius meant," Dumbledore said cutting off Fudge, "was that considering Harry's heritage, it was rather impulsive and ill-advised for Sirius to abduct Harry regardless of good intentions."

Harry glared at Dumbledore. Was the old man not content until he was miserable? A quick glance at Mr. Nizin told Harry to keep his mouth shut.

"_Ill-advised_ Albus?" Sirius spoke up angrily, "Did you even _see_ the state the boy was in when I found him?"

"I assure you Mr. Black I had been keeping my eye on the boy to make sure he was not in any danger."

"Danger from _who_?"

"I had feared, and still continue to fear the remnants of Voldemorts forces. His most fanatical followers are still around as the World Cup has shown. Although I do not doubt your commitment to keep Harry safe I am not convinced that if Voldemort's followers discover Harry's whereabouts that the protection he currently has will be enough."

"Are you implying that we would need your help dealing with the rabble from a Dark Lord when your country had barely survived one not so long ago?" The Prime Minister spoke up. "While our country may not be as big as powerful as Britain, we still have a highly efficient government that can stamp out any of your Dark Lord's followers should they start causing trouble within our borders."

"Forgive me I did not mean to imply that Ukraine was weak, I had merely assumed that after Chernobyl," Dumbledore said defensively.

"_That was an accident._" The Prime Minister hissed.

"Yes, a very tragic one. Still it goes to show that we are not all as powerful as we would like ourselves to believe." The Prime Minister glared in response but did not say anything.

After a second of silence Mr. Nizin spoke up. "Still, I do think we have done a rather good job given the circumstances. Harry is happy, healthy, and has led a rather content childhood. I do not think you can ask for more Headmaster."

"Indeed, I had been concerned for Harry's safety ever since he vanished from Britain and I am relieved to hear that he is doing well." Dumbledore said, "Still I am a bit disappointed that Harry never had the chance to learn magic from the same school that taught his parents. I'm sure they would have wanted that." Harry gritted his teeth. The old man was trying to get him back to Britain. Not to mention he was using his parents as a weapon when, according to Sirius, Harry's parents never meant for Harry to live with the _Dursleys_ in the first place. Harry had once again barely restrained the urge to yell at Dumbledore when he looked over at Mr. Nizin who had been rubbing his watch.

"Zis is well and good but I think ze issue of two Durmstrang champions should be addressed?" A tall woman, taller than even Hagrid had been, spoke up.

"Ah but Madame Maxime, I 'ave full faith zat my daughter will come out on top even if zere were three Durmstrang champions. I _am_ 'owever concerned about young 'Arry participating in such a dangerous event." A short, by comparison, man spoke up in a thick French accent. Harry had assumed this was the French diplomat that the auror had mentioned earlier.

"Indeed Albus," Highmaster Karkaroff spoke up, "I too am rather troubled that one of my students now risks his life because your protections on the goblet were inadequate. Surely there is some way to remove him as a champion?"

Rather than Dumbledore, a well-dressed man with a mustache spoke up, "I'm afraid the goblet's decision is final. Harry is obliged by a magical contract to participate." Harry nearly bit his tongue to stop himself from screaming at the absurdity of the fact that a slip of parchment had somehow bound him to a magical contract when he wasn't even on the same _landmass_ as the goblet.

"It looks like Harry will have to remain here at Hogwarts for the duration of the year I'm afraid." Harry doubted Dumbledore was anything but satisfied with this turn of events and would have done nothing to help reverse it. "Still, I'm sure it will be a wonderful learning experience for Harry. While he's here I think he can even visit his former guardians," Harry's hands clenched into fists instantaneously, "I am sure they will want to know that he is doing well." Dumbledore's words were buzzing around his head causing Harry to feel nauseous. Visit _them_? Harry looked, rather indiscreetly at Mr. Nizin, almost daring the man to rub his watch, Mr. Nizin had turned his head slightly to look at Harry before adjusting his glasses.

"Visit them? You want me to visit them?" Harry said,

"Harry, it is important that you renew the prot-"

"The only reason I would visit people who have locked me in a cupboard, beat me, starved me, and called me 'freak' for four years is so I could _kill_ them." Harry said probably sounding somewhat insane at the moment. He had wondered in the back of his mind if he had said too much, especially after the room fell silent again. When Harry saw the look of shock on Dumbledore's face he felt very satisfied.

"I think that unless Harry changes his mind, it is best that he is returned to Durmstrang and his home in Ukraine when this tournament is over." Mr. Nizin said Harry's threats of murder not affecting him in the slightest.

Dumbledore nodded, but said nothing.

"Well, if that is all." Prime Minister Timoshenko began.

"Actually, I think that since Harry is not as prepared as the other champions," Dumbledore began, "I propose he takes classes here at Hogwarts for the duration of his stay. It would be a good learning opportunity and Harry can spend the year furthering his education. If that is all right with you Igor?"

Highmaster Karkaroff thought for a moment then answered. "As you know Durmstrang has a different policy when it comes to its classes. I am not convinced this is the best option, I can bring in a tutor-"

"Nonsense," Fudge cut him off, "I think it's a capital idea. You said it yourself Karkaroff this is a dangerous tournament and why send for tutors when Harry can get a top rate education here?"

Harry was about one straw short of hexing Britain's Minister of Magic politics be damned, when Mr. Nizin struck the final blow. "On one condition." Harry openly stared at Mr. Nizin, who looked back for a moment and blinked twice, ending the silent discussion. "I would feel better knowing that some of Harry's schoolmates were with him to keep him company. If you will permit it, Highmaster, I think it would be best if you could arrange for Harry's friends to study with him as an exchange program of sorts."

Karkaroff sighed, "If they will want to come, I suppose it can be arranged."

Dumbledore nodded, "Very well, I see no harm in that."

Harry felt tired, not just because he had been on his feet the last couple of minutes but the adrenaline from the stress of having his past dug up began to drain out leaving Harry wanting nothing more than to rest. The rest of the room, save for a few people, shared Harry's state of fatigue. With the matter settled, everyone had exited the side room to the now mostly deserted dining hall.

Although Harry felt physically tired, his mind had begun to process the situation. Over the course of the evening he had been involved in a political showdown between two countries that revolved around him. He was also declared a participant in a difficult and possibly dangerous tournament. Lastly, he was now stuck for the duration of the year in Britain against his will. Indeed today had been a strange day for Harry Potter. Still, thanks to the last minute suggestion by Mr. Nizin, Harry would soon be reunited with Ed and Al bringing the marauders back to full strength, and it had after all been established as the motto of the Durmstrang Marauders: _Mache Tag für Tag Seltsamer. _Make every day stranger. That thought lifted his spirits. Even if he _was_ stuck in Britain, he would make the most of it by making Hogwarts regret having him there. As Harry approached the large doors leading outside the dining hall he took one last look around and a thought struck him.

They could fit _four_ dozen Christmas trees in here.

_End._


	3. Chapter 3

ShadowAI: Allright folks the pilot is over, the story begins now. After seeing a positive response to this fic, Zaion and I sat down and talked at length about where we want to go with this fic. It was a rather heated talk because my proposal had quite a few flaws, but in the end we came up with a rather interesting scenario that I hope will leave everyone pleasantly surprised, that's all I'm saying on the matter. Also I'll mention a bit more about Dumbledore, Dima or his dad or other politically-savvy people will not always be there to point out his machinations, but subtle hints will be dropped. As a bonus hint I'll point out that the fact that McGonagall doesn't talk about Harry's classes too much is related to the events of the next chapter, and if you read carefully you will find yourself with a new perspective on those events.

Zaion: And of course, since we have been most remiss in it up until this point, we present to you your first taste of…jam.

**Disclaimer: Imagine the weeping angels, now imagine that instead of angels they all look like the bunny from Donnie Darko, now imagine a hallway filled with them at night.**

**Chapter Three: In which Harry discovers they serve jam in Hogwarts.**

Although it was probably around five in the morning, Harry already found himself in a rather peculiar predicament. The predicament in question was that he was now running away from Toshi who was chasing after him with a large stick shaped slightly like Toshi's Japanese sword. While Harry was also holding a similar stick, transfigured by Toshi from a tree branch, Harry had learned that using it to block Toshi's strikes was an exercise in futility and only served to make his wrists ache. To make matters worse, the clothes Toshi made him wear, similar to Toshi's own, were difficult for Harry to move in as he wasn't used to wearing thin straw sandals or the wide pants that really could have been a skirt. Toshi, naturally, didn't have this disadvantage as he had most likely been wearing such clothes since a young age.

Everything started when Harry had been in the middle of a very amusing dream in which Dumbledore, Fudge, and the thin-mustached man from the night before were hanging upside down over a pit of flesh-eating slugs. Harry stood above the pit watching the squirming wizards with amusement as they screamed "Save us."

Harry was about to look down and whisper 'No' when he was suddenly splashed by very cold water from Toshi's wand. Waking up, tired, confused, and now soaked made Harry angry and disoriented. Without so much as a 'Sorry' Toshi handed Harry a spare set of clothes in the same style that Toshi himself was wearing and told Harry that he was going to be doing morning training with Toshi from now on at Dima's insistence. Although Harry had never seen the actual training, everyone in Durmstrang knew about the Japanese boy's early morning training which he did in just about any weather. There were several fantastic rumors, partly fueled by Toshi's nationality, about how he was able to train in Durmstrang's bitter snows. Harry's personal take on it was that Toshi was a half demon and that his mother was one of those snow ladies Toshi mentioned once.

After spending half an hour putting on the odd uniform consisting of a white cotton robe which reached Harry's waist, a pair of rather strange indigo pants which looked like a skirt, a pair of socks, which were thankfully normal more or less, and a pair of straw sandals they exited the Durmstrang ship down the gangplank. Toshi set off on a medium paced run and Harry followed in tow for about fifteen minutes before his legs couldn't keep up. Toshi kept going for a few more minutes while Harry sat on the chilly morning ground, panting to catch his breath. Harry had been more or less in shape due to being on a Quidditch team and a part of the Marauders but Toshi's workout had been brutal on him. After a few minutes of warm-ups Toshi broke off then transfigured two branches into wooden imitation swords, handed one to Harry, and the proceeded to beat the tar out of him for nearly half an hour. As Harry learned after five minutes and four times as many bruises, trying to defend against Toshi was futile. Instead Harry tried running away, another plan that was beginning to fail due to Harry's exhaustion.

As Harry's legs gave out, again, Toshi began to gain on him and a bad attempt to dodge a swing of the wooden sword caused Harry to trip over his pants and fall on the rather hard and cold ground. This of course caused his bruises to ache even more. Toshi walked up to Harry's prone form and offered a hand. Harry ignored it and got up slowly, wincing at his aching joints, then dusted himself off before facing the other boy.

"I still don't see any point to this." Harry grumbled.

"I'm teaching you how to defend yourself for the tournament." Toshi replied evenly, "I thought it was obvious."

"Obvious?" Harry asked raising his voice, "The sky is blue, that's obvious. Dima is a sadist, and you're insane, that is obvious. The reason why we are awake at the crack of dawn, wearing your Japanese pajamas and beating each other up with sticks is anything _but_ obvious."

Toshi narrowed his eyes. Maybe the pajama crack was a bit much, Harry thought. "I thought it would be useful if you could defend yourself without your wand." Toshi justified himself.

"I don't think they'll let me bring a _sword_ to the tournament." Harry pointed out the flaw in Toshi's samurai-obsessed logic, "Actually, I don't even _have_ a sword." He added pointing out the even more glaring flaw. "Anyway," Harry added turning around toward the ship, "I'm going to wash up and put some ice on the bruises you gave me. I have to meet with someone from the school so I can get my schedule. They want me taking classes immediately."

"Wait." Toshi said causing Harry to turn back around irritably, _now what?_ "The spell to fold the _hakama_ is _Tatame_. You're not normally supposed to use it, but since _you_ don't know how to fold one…"

"Whatever." Harry grumbled and began walking toward the ship. He didn't want to wear these stupid pajamas in the first place and now he had to fold them. Harry wasn't sure what a hakama even _was_. As Harry made his way up the creaky gangplank he briefly entertained the notion of coming up with a prank for Toshi but then dismissed it. One of the central rules of the Durmstrang Marauders was that there were no inter-marauder pranks. The rule came from the very beginnings of the Marauders when Harry had decided to prank Ed. Before Harry knew Ed he had thought the German blonde was a rather annoying fellow due to Ed's constant flaunting of his transfiguration talents.

The first shot of what would later be a rather intense prank war was fired by Harry when he replaced one of Edward's rocks in Transfiguration with a rubber imitation. The spell that was meant to turn a rock into a sphere, they had been practicing on basic shapes that day, had an unforeseen effect when used on rubber. The gray sphere Ed had created flew out of control and began to bounce around wildly as if the room was a giant pinball machine. The ball had eventually stopped but not before knocking out the unsuspecting Professor Müller and four other students while simultaneously giving the rest several very visible and painful bruises. Before anyone could notice Harry had swapped the rubber ball back for a stone one he had created while hiding under his desk.

Luckily the Transfiguration Professor was rather easy-going and laughed the incident off. Ed, not so much. Ed and Al weren't naturally pranksters, but Ed's skill at transfiguration was rivaled only by Al's skill at enchantments, particularly animation. While their pranks had been, in some sense, repetitive, they still came up with clever responses to Harry's more traditional approach to pranking. At one point Al had charmed the entire floor in the Slavic dormitory so that the stones would fly up at random times causing people to trip or stumble. In Harry's particular case the ground shot up from under him causing him to do a flip in the air before landing painfully on his back.

The war culminated in a rather impressive showdown in a hallway on the second floor which was the closest Harry had ever come to being caught. The trio had escaped just moments before the teachers showed up to figure out the source of some rather violent explosions. Although neither Harry nor Ed nor Al had been discovered, the second floor hallway was littered with stone creatures that Harry could only describe as a cross between a bunny, a werewolf, and a wraith. Ed had later confessed he had seen the large-eyed monsters in his nightmares as a child. Not all of them had been intact as Harry had blasted a good bit of them leaving the hallway as an eerie panorama of a large-scale nightmare bunny massacre. Some of the professors had found the scene artistic, why Harry never understood, and petitioned to keep the bunnies around.

Disturbing as it was to have a hallway full of nightmarish bunnies in various menacing poses surrounded by the mangled body parts of their shattered comrades that had not been the worst of it. In their hurry to escape Al could not properly take off the mass animation charm. As was later discovered the bunnies and the various bunny parts still moved. It was hard to notice as they never seemed to do it when watched, but if one was observant or paranoid enough they would find sometimes when turning around that one or more of the bunnies that they had passed looked ever-so-slightly off. It was even worse at night due to the poorly lit hallways and general spooky atmosphere that played tricks on people's minds. Every year there would always be a group of first-years foolish enough to accept a challenge to spend the night in the "Bunny Hall" as it came to be named and unfailingly most of them would suffer hysteric fits for the rest of the year.

After coming the closest any of them had ever come to being caught, the trio agreed to an uneasy truce. The truce grew into a friendship, and the friendship led to the formation of the Durmstrang Chapter of the marauders. The rest, as they say, is history. Thus, to ensure that the marauders were never caught, the rule against pranking each other was made one of the most important ones.

After spending another hour and a half trying to recover from his 'training' with Toshi Harry put on his Durmstrang Dress Uniform. The uniform was comprised of black boots, black pants, red button up tunic and a decorative black belt tied across his waist above the tunic. Toshi had walked in while Harry was putting on his uniform and nodded approvingly at the folded bundle of clothes Harry left on his roommate's bed. As Harry made his way down from the ship for the second time this morning he noticed an elderly witch dressed in black robes with a pointed witch's hat waiting for him.

"Hello Mr. Potter, I am Professor McGonagall, the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts." She introduced herself.

Harry, not sure what the British custom was, bowed slightly, and replied. "Pleasure to meet you Madam M-"

"_Professor _McGonagall." She corrected.

"Professor McGonagall." Harry repeated.

She handed him a piece of parchment before saying, "Follow me Mr. Potter." Harry nodded, following her while looking over what appeared to be his class schedule. "You are enrolled in all of the standard courses here at Hogwarts. Normally we let our students choose two electives during their third year, but in your case, Mr. Potter, the Headmaster thought that you would be somewhat behind in those." Harry was about to ask the woman what his choices would have been when he realized that it would mean spending more time in the castle learning useless things he probably already knew. Harry blamed his sleep deprivation.

"Arrangements have been made for your school supplies," she continued as they approached the castle, "however you still need to be fitted for your Hogwarts robes." _Robes?_ Harry almost tripped, why did he need robes? What was wrong with his school uniform? Harry tuned the woman out as she started describing the castle and its history. He might not have been as interested in politics as Dima was, but last night made him wary of the British, and he had the suspicion that they were trying to mess with him already. Their plan didn't reveal itself until they had entered the castle and the woman began talking about the house system.

"-since the Sorting Hat has already been put away the Headmaster thought it would be simpler if you took your classes with the Gryffindor students as it was your parents' house. Their dormitory is in the Gryffindor Tower on the seventh floor." Wheels clicked and the puzzle pieces fell into place.

Harry went from suspicious to furious in less than a second. "_Professor_ McGonagall." Harry seethed, stopping a few steps behind her.

"Yes, Mr. Potter." She said, stopping and turning around to face him. "Is there some kind of problem?"

"As you know, I am a student of the Durmstrang Institute of Magic." He continued, his voice low and hostile.

"Indeed you are, Mr. Potter."

"And although I may be forced," he emphasized the word, "to take classes here. This does _not_ make me a student of Hogwarts." Harry spat the last word out as if it had been something particularly nasty in his mouth.

Harry glared at the woman, expecting some kind of anger in response. He was surprised when the look she returned was one of sadness and pity. After a few seconds she sighed, "I will speak to the Headmaster about the issue, and given your attitude I will ask him to remove you from the points system." Her tone hardened, "I do, however, expect you to be on your best behavior and to never again take that tone with another member of the Hogwart's faculty." Harry nodded slightly to appease her, although whether or not he would use the tone again remained to be seen. She showed him around the castle some more before sending him off to breakfast.

When Harry entered the Great Hall he was thankful that this time everyone didn't stare at him, although there were more than a few glances shot his way. Harry noted that there were only four tables now each belonging to one of the four houses of Hogwarts as it was explained to him. The far left table featured students with bright yellow accents on their black uniforms and Harry assumed they were the Hufflepuff house. Next to them were the Ravenclaws who looked a bit more subdued. Seated with them were the Beauxbatons students. The girls were wearing light blue dresses that stood out among the black uniforms of Hogwarts, while the boys were wearing indigo suits. Harry had briefly wondered if the French chose to sit with Ravenclaw because their uniforms matched. To their right, distinguished by their scarlet and gold, sat the Gryffindors. Harry started walking towards their table causing a few heads to turn, and briefly paused. He smiled a bit and turned further right to join his schoolmates at the fourth table.

Toshi and Dima were already seated and eating when Harry sat down across from his friends and began putting eggs and bacon on his plate. Harry found that the Slytherin students were not very covert when it comes to looking at him. Judging by the direction of some of their stares he knew what they were looking for, they weren't going to find it. Harry liked his scar, especially after Sirius told him that he got it, not in a car crash, but for defeating the darkest wizard Britain had ever known. It also looked like a lightning bolt. Still, the scar being a rather unique trait Sirius insisted on hiding it using a special type of bandage called skin-cloth. Skin-cloth was made specifically to hide scars and it was a thin piece of silk cloth that clung to you like a second skin covering up whatever there was underneath. Because it wasn't a glamour most people couldn't tell it was there and Harry himself rarely noticed it anymore except for times when he had to wash the cloth. Now that everyone seemed to be trying to find it, however, it almost felt itchy.

"So what was that about?" Dima asked in German, in between spoonfuls of oatmeal.

"What was what about?" Harry replied, adding salt to his eggs.

"Your little pause at the other table." Trust Dima to notice that, "Don't tell me you want to start angering people already?"

"I wasn't trying to anger anyone." Harry said before going into the details of this morning's tour and Dumbledore's attempts to 'kidnap' him. When Harry had finished, Dima shook his head.

"He's good."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, "I told that woman that I-"

"No, no, no." Dima cut him off, "Dumbledore isn't stupid enough to try to turn you into one of his students. If he was serious about something like this, Minister Timoshenko would find out and be back here this evening to rip Dumbledore's head off." The image caused Harry to smile. "What Dumbledore _did_ do was pull an old negotiation trick." Harry was still confused, and Dima continued. "Suppose you want something from the other party, you demand a lot more than you're willing to settle for. They negotiate down to what you're willing to accept, and then they think they came out on top because of the compromise. Meanwhile, you get what you wanted. Dumbledore never intended you to live here or anything like that. He just wanted you to be more worried about him trying to turn you into one of his students so that you would not be concerned about the fact that you are forced to take classes here." _Son of a Bitch!_

"Also," Toshi added, "From what I've heard around this table, Gryffindor students worship Dumbledore and he really favors them and now it looks like you're stuck taking classes where he can keep an eye on you." Harry's anger from before returned in spades as he turned his head around and glared murder at the long-bearded headmaster who currently ate at the head table. The old man turned to Harry, his eyes seemingly twinkling before slowly raising his goblet as a sort of toast. That was _it_. If the old man wanted to play rough, Harry would take him through the meat grinder. As Harry turned back towards his friends his eyes passed over a bowl full of a red viscous substance that a black-haired girl was currently spreading over her toast.

"Is that jam?" Harry asked, trying to sound innocent.

The girl looked up, a bit confused, then turned to Harry and replied. "Yeah, Strawberry." She paused for a second and added, "Would you like some?"

"No!" the joint shout from Toshi and Dima caused the girl to squeak. Several people also turned in their direction.

Harry shook his head theatrically, "Yes, I would love some." He said, trying his best to mollify the girl who had just been yelled at. Nervously, she passed the bowl over to Harry, while looking over to Dima and Toshi once in a while. The two had instead been looking at Harry. Ignoring them Harry smiled at the girl and added, "Thank you, my name's Harry by the way."

"I know," she said hesitantly. Then, after realizing what she had said stammered, "My name is Astoria, Astoria Greengrass."

"Nice to meet you." Harry said trying his best not to frighten the poor girl. She mumbled something and turned away.

Harry looked back to Dima and Toshi who were still eyeing him suspiciously. Rather than saying anything Harry picked up a piece of toast and carefully spread the red substance across the surface before folding it in half. Once he was done he looked back over at his two friends, meeting their gazes with his mischievous one. Then he took his jam sandwich, and _bit_ it.

Harry's dramatic moment was ruined when he nearly choked on the toast as an entire flock of birds flew, rather loudly, into the Great Hall. After a few coughs, and sniggers from his friends, Harry noted that the birds were dropping off mail to various students. That explained how mail worked at Hogwarts. At Durmstrang several students were picked each month to distribute the mail daily. Harry hadn't been expecting mail so he was surprised when a black owl dropped off a small piece of parchment before picking up a piece of bacon and taking off. Harry ignored it and read the note.

_Meet me at the castle's entrance at Lunch. – Padfoot._

Harry smiled, it was the first good news he had gotten all day. As he finished off his sandwich a bell rang. Time for class. Harry looked around to see various students start to file out in various directions. That wasn't going to help. He took out the other piece of parchment he had received today, his schedule. He scanned it for his first class of the day. Herbology.

_End._


	4. Chapter 4

ShadowAI: I hated, _hated_ this chapter. You'd think writing about Harry going to two classes would be a piece of cake. Apparently it's not, and I spent a week forcing myself to write the Herbology class. Once I was done I realized a second class would put this fic on indefinite hiatus so I switched gears a bit. What this means is, expect a lot less of class scenes, at least until Harry's Culture shock wears off and the marauders spring into action. I did not, however, spend this time in writer's block. Anarchy is planned out through the Yule Ball more or less, and the main story is fully mapped out. We know how the tasks will be solved and how the fic will end. That said, we have spent a lot of time building the Anarchy-verse as we're calling it for the sequel, and the prequel to the sequel which will take place in Magical Japan (because it just _has_ to be Japan). I will be taking a one month break from Anarchy because by the time this is published, work will have started and I want to take some time to work on my other fics and let the Anarchy bunny seethe.

ZaionIndulias: Don't worry though. We have begun an intense world planning for this constantly growing story. There is a set of tv tropes troper works pages established for us to keep our notes straight. Feel free to look them up, but be warned that unmarked spoilers fill the pages. Don't look if you don't want spoilers and twists ruined.

**Chapter Four: In which Lord Dedede meets his match.**

**Disclaimer: Google screwed me over. When I typed in "Creepy Bunny" all I got was Frank. I totally forgot about Robbie. I'm sorry dear reader. I promise I will make it up to you.**

In Durmstrang Herbology was easily one of the most hated classes of the bunch. Professor Daru was a difficult man at his best and he treated teaching as a punishment. Naturally this meant he shared his attitude with his students and made the already-difficult class worse. The class was held at a large greenhouse compound which was a good fifteen minute walk away from the main castle. This walk became even worse when the winter set in (roughly in early October). When the heavy snows fell an underground tunnel that was only barely freezing had to be used. The lessons themselves almost never took place in the greenhouse proper. Professor Daru refused to allow students inside for fear that they would disturb his precious plants. Of course the old man claimed it was because the specimens inside were dangerous or required special care, but no one was really fooled. Professor Daru wouldn't let anyone touch so much as a weed if he could help it. Not that anyone minded, while most lessons wound up being boring lectures held in a building that could be better described as a large shed, practical lessons involved them being subjected to an hour of tedious and unpleasant labor in the greenhouses such as composting or weeding. In short, Harry spent more time coming up with ways of not paying attention in Herbology than studying for it. It was with these less-than-fond memories Harry Potter rounded yet another corridor while looking for the Herbology greenhouse, already ten minutes late to class.

It occurred to him that enrolling him into all of Hogwart's classes on day one of his stay in Britain had not been the most well-thought-out idea. For one, Harry had no idea what the internal layout of Hogwarts even was. The tour McGonagall had given him earlier was barely sufficient and Harry had spent the better part of it seething. The other, more glaring, issue was that Harry was not given any time to prepare for his classes. In fact he had to run off to the ship after breakfast to pick up some spare quills, parchment, and books which he placed in his spiffy leather book bag before running back to find his first class.

Eventually Harry had found the greenhouse he was supposed to be in. A short grey-haired woman was standing in the center of a bunch of black robed students, giving a lecture from the looks of it. Judging by their uniforms, the students were Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. He took out his schedule and checked, Herbology with Hufflepuff and Gryffindor, this was the place. He was not completely certain how the woman would react to him being late, his experience with Durmstrang suggesting that it was better to err on the side of caution, so with practiced skill he slowly opened the glass door and crept in.

"Ah, Mr. Potter." Harry flinched and straightened up, trying to regain some form of composure. "Please come join us, I was just finishing up explaining to everyone the proper precautions for collecting Bubotuber Pus."

Harry approached the group, his red tunic standing out brightly against the sea of red robes. "Bubotuber pus?"

"Yes," the elderly woman said cheerfully, "Have you not covered it in the Durmstrang curriculum?"

With so many eyes on him Harry felt the need to excuse his lack of intimate knowledge with the subject of today's lesson. He hadn't remembered hearing the name of that plant, not that he paid close attention, so he went with a simple lie, "No, Madam Professor, it's too cold." He heard a few coughs.

"Oh, I suppose it is." She said, not remotely fazed, "Well then please grab a spare set of gloves from the chest near the entrance. We're about to split into pairs, so you can find yourself a partner once you're ready."

Hogwarts Herbology seemed to be far more pleasant. The grey-haired woman, Professor Sprout, seemed to enjoy letting her students interact with her plants and moved in between the various stations as she corrected mistakes and praised good technique. The more hands-on and enthusiastic approach made Harry rather self-conscious due to his lack of botanical knowledge.

A pair of worn dark-green dragon-hide gloves in hand Harry made his way to the workstations where pairs of students were busy dealing with large thick bulbous plans that looked a sickly shade of yellowish-green. As Harry strode past the various tables he noticed that people tended to stop talking and slightly tense up when he walked past them. Harry tried his best to look like he hadn't noticed the sideways stares but they annoyed him to no end. His only consolation was that this much attention drawn to him could be used as an effective means of misdirection should it be required. Harry's annoyance turned into frustration when he couldn't find anyone he could pair up with, everyone seemed taken and those that didn't seemed to always manage to pair up when he looked in their direction.

"I can be your partner." Harry snapped his head around toward the direction of the rather quiet voice. The boy who spoke up almost shrank back when Harry looked at him. "Umm, I mean if you need one or something." He said a bit more quietly.

"Ok" Harry said, moving over to the boy's workbench glad to not have to wander around anymore, "Harry Potter" he extended his hand.

The short blonde boy hesitated before shaking Harry's hand, "Neville," he paused, "Longbottom." Although the boy looked to be somewhat scared of Harry, he was at least talking to Harry and not whispering about him.

Harry nodded and focused his attention at the plant in front of them as he put his gloves on. "So, err, what do we do?" Harry said, feeling more and more like an idiot.

In contrast with Neville's earlier mannerisms, the boy grabbed a flask and deftly squeezed one of the protrusions on the plant releasing a noxious smell that reminded Harry of large muggle towns. Harry grimaced as thick yellow pus oozed slowly into the flask. After there was no more pus left Neville offered the flask to Harry who took it hesitantly. Neville, Harry noticed, was completely unaffected by the smell or the pus.

After taking the flask Harry mentally prepared himself to get it over with and thrust out his hand to squeeze a particularly ugly looking bulb. Just as he was about to touch the plant Neville shouted, "Wait." and stopped Harry's hand in mid-air. "You have to be gentle with them or the pus will spray all over you." Harry winced mentally at the thought of being covered in smelly yellow goo and tried a second time, squeezing as gently as he could. Eventually the yellow pus began to flow out of the protrusion and Harry took a deep breath, regretting it immediately as his nostrils filled with the smell of muggle cars. After that bulb was drained he handed the flask back to Neville who, without hesitation, began to milk (Harry couldn't think of a less squicky description) the plant.

Harry tried to take the flask back so that Neville didn't look like he was doing all the work but Neville waved him off. "It's ok. I don't mind doing it." Harry looked around, the people who had been looking over at their workstation turned to their own work. Then he looked back at Neville and shrugged.

"Thanks." Neville wasn't so bad, thought Harry. He might have been shy and didn't seem to be particularly well liked but he was nice and he _did_ spare Harry the task of extracting the pus which gave him plenty of points in Harry's book. After a few minutes of watching Neville work, Harry struck up a conversation. As Harry soon discovered Neville wasn't just good at Herbology, he _loved_ the class. So when Harry mentioned that he found today's lesson unpleasant Neville went into a long discussion, all the while filling more flasks, about how useful bubotuber pus was. Although Harry's initial reflex was to slip into his 'feign interest' technique which he had built up over years of practice he reluctantly forced himself to pay attention, he didn't want to be an ass after Neville helped him out. Ninety percent of what Neville said Harry found dry and uninteresting but Harry did make a mental note of what happened when you got Bubotuber Pus spilled on unprotected skin as potentially useful knowledge.

"So, what's Herbology like in Durmstrang?" Neville asked interestedly.

"Cold, boring, lots of lectures and dirty work." Harry ticked off the reasons why he hated the class. "Also professor yells at us a lot. Pretty useless class, don't know why we have to take it."

"It's not useless." Neville said a bit aggressively. "Herbs are used everywhere, food, medicine, potions-" He said the last word a bit softly.

"Ok, ok, I get it." Harry mollified him and continued to watch him work in silence.

"What's your favorite class?" Neville asked, a bit more timidly.

"Don't have one." Harry said simply.

"None?"

"Well, D und V is ok." He said a bit thoughtfully. When Neville simply looked confused he clarified. "Dueling and Defense in English."

"So it's like Defense against the Dark Arts?" Neville asked.

Harry snorted. "I don't think so. From what our Professor told us Durmstrang is the only school that teaches anything useful. Hogwarts focuses too much on theory because it's afraid of teaching 'Dark Magic'. Beauxbatons, he says, is worse."

They continued talking through the lesson about the classes of their respective schools. Electives at Hogwarts were an odd lot, as Harry found out. Although he could see the practically in some of them, why anyone would bother with Diviniation was beyond him. Muggle Studies also seemed like a niche topic. Neville seemed very interested in the fact that Healing Arts were actually taught at Durmstrang. Harry was more surprised that they barely taught any healing charms at Hogwarts. In Harry's third year, every class he took had a section dedicated to healing and first aid for the first three months.

Once the hour was up, Professor Sprout walked through the Greenhouse collecting vials of gathered pus. After Neville handed her theirs she smiled and gave Gryffindor twenty points. Harry merely tried to not look too sheepish. After Harry returned his gloves, he pulled Neville away from Sprout saying that he needed someone to show him how to get to the next class. Harry felt a bit bad for exploiting Neville like this, but he needed a guide, and Neville already knew the schedule of classes. Besides, Neville reminded Harry of Al, except a lot shyer. Well, that was fixable if it became a problem.

Meanwhile on the deck of the Durmstrang ship Toshi was trying his best to enjoy a quiet read while Dima half-heartedly tried to finish his homework and complained about it every five minutes.

"List all the possible ways to modify the standard _Shield _charm?" Dima spoke up causing Toshi to consider a wordless silencer, or a stunner. "Don't you just adjust how much power you channel?"

Toshi continued reading, however when he felt his friend's eyes on him he looked up to find Dima waiting for him to answer. How was _he_ supposed to know if Dima was asking a question or whining again? "That's the most primitive way. Wand-based spells are mostly changed by vocal, motion, mental, and material modifiers."

Dima stared back at him, "I know you take Spell Theory, this is only Spell_work_. You already finished this assignment right?"

"I finished it a week ago."

"A _week?_" Dima asked, "How did you manage to get this far in a week?"

"I had-"

"You had practice, I know, I know." Dima cut him off. Toshi was inhumanly fast at finishing essays and homework assignments. Whenever asked for his secret the constant response was 'he had practice.'

"Look it up in chapter six of the book, they talk about common ways to alter the shield charm. I think they mention three vocal and two motion modifiers."

Dima groaned and grabbed his bookbag, removing the heavy tome titled _Spelle Standarte VI_, the book, being an international edition, was set to the Russian text. Fifteen minutes and several very wordy pages later Dima groaned and slammed the book shut.

"That's it. We're going for a walk." He announced.

"We?" Toshi asked peering from above his book.

"Yes. We. I know that between your skin and your hair you try very hard to develop an effective snow camouflage." Toshi scowled, "But it's still _warm_ here, relatively speaking. We can take a walk, talk to people, enjoy the sunshine."

Toshi didn't respond and continued to read his book. Dima got up and tried to sneak up on Toshi and close the other boy's book on his nose. When Dima reached out, Toshi deftly moved the book away from Dima's hand without so much as glancing in his direction. Dima tried again with the same result. After several more tries Dima gave up, mentally cursing Toshi's stupid ninja reflexes. Just when Dima was reaching for his wand, Toshi closed the book and looked up at him.

"If I go with you on a walk, will your promise to let me read peacefully this evening?"

Dima thought about it, although he could probably bargain with Toshi that would be wasteful. Dima wasn't planning on doing anymore work today anyway. He was going to have dinner with his father which would most likely involve a lengthy lecture on what he was to do and not do for the duration of the tournament. With a nod of agreement from Dima, Toshi stood up and made his way down the port side toward the gangplank to get off the ship.

"Hey Tosh?" Dima asked, catching up to his friend.

"Yes?"

"Are you going to be wearing your pajamas?"

"They're _not _pajamas." Toshi argued back, "Why does everyone keep calling them pajamas? They're a traditional-"

"Ok, ok, jeez. Try to make a joke around you and you blow up. You should take a class on humor."

"I know what humor is." Toshi retorted. "That was just a crappy joke."

"Right, right." Dima said dismissively. "Let's see if we can find Krumpelstiltskin and see what he's up to." Toshi winced at the pun. Summoning his patience he followed the dark haired boy off the ship.

The day was a rather pleasant and breezy one. The sky was relatively cloudless, a bit surprising for mid-September. After a brief walk around the grounds, Toshi and Dima finally settled on the side of the lake opposite of their ship beneath a large tree. Their discussion settled mostly on the topic of the tournament and the tasks involved. Toshi, upon hearing the brief explanation of how the tournament was usually structured from Dima, immediately made a parallel with an event that used to be held in Japan to test Japanese shinobi and promote them through the ranks. Dima found the comparison faulty. Although he had a passing knowledge of Japanese magical culture, he had been fully briefed by his father on the Triwizard Tournament and its history during the summer.

"This tournament isn't at _all_ like your ninja examination tests." Dima said in frustration.

"Why not? It's a comprehensive test of magical skill, three events-" Toshi argued.

"Yes, but first of all, there are only _three_ competitors. Second, the mortality rate isn't as bad." Dima countered.

"Didn't you say they canceled it because the competitors kept dying?'

"Yes, but we at most had three people dead. I heard your ninja considered twenty percent losses to be a good year. And that was in exams featuring over a hundred competitors. Besides the tournament is more of an individual friendly competition."

"They prefer being called _shinobi. _And the exams were a competition of individual teams." Toshi said defensively.

"I thought they were a cold war between the _shinobi_factions after Japan was unified. Oh and another thing, there is no one-on-one dueling in the tournament."

"That seems stupid, why wouldn't you have a duel? It's a perfect test of skill."

"Well you can't have much of a duel with only three competitors. If they have a free-for-all," Dima cut off Toshi's expected comment, "then there's always the chance that two schools will collaborate."

"Well they have four competitors now, don't they?" Asked Toshi.

"Yes, but the events were determined by the tournament committee in advance." Dima said feeling slightly annoyed, "They won't change the events, just adjust them for a fourth."

"So why Krum then?" Asked Toshi, "I know Karkaroff has been preparing him to be the champion, think he knows the events?"

"No," Dima said, "committee is bound to secrecy. I wouldn't put it past him to groom Krum just because of the World Cup though. Imagine if Krum wins the tournament, probably more than makes up for the loss by the Bulgarian Team."

Toshi smiled, "That had to hurt his pride, losing the same way twice."

"Harry was way closer to the snitch in their game though, and he didn't fall for the feints so easily." Dima added thoughtfully, "Anyway, I wouldn't underestimate Krum. He's large, athletic, a powerful if a bit straight-forward spellcaster, and he thrives under pressure."

"And Harry is short, fast, creative, and doesn't like crowds even on a broom. The exact opposite." Toshi finished Dima's thought. "So any idea on the first task and how much trouble he's in?" asked Toshi.

"Nope, but there's usually a theme to the tasks." Noted Dima.

"Really? What was the last theme?" asked Toshi.

"Strawberries." Said Dima with a shrug. Noting Toshi's puzzled look he added: "It was centuries ago and at Beauxbatons. The first task was a scavenger hunt, they were dropped off in the forest with a box of strawberries and told to make a delicious dessert."

"Who won?"

"No one," Dima said, "The second task had the remaining two competitors try to stop a curse that would permanently turn them into strawberries after a certain amount of time, they both failed."

Toshi winced, "What happened to the third one?"

"He tried to hide in a dark cave after a troll broke his wand." Dima answered.

"Did the troll find him?"

"No, he was eaten by a Grue."

"A what?" Toshi raised an eyebrow.

"Don't ask."

After a pause Toshi asked, "You figure Karkaroff is expecting more physical than mental challenges this time?"

"Maybe." Said Dima thoughtfully, "Karkaroff probably planned to figure out the tasks ahead of time and coach Krum, that way covering Krum's lack of, _ingenuity_. Now that he has two contestants, though, the stakes are higher for him. I don't think he would be able to live with himself if Harry Potter and Victor Krum both lose while they are under his tutelage. He'll look like an idiot."

"Think the other schools will cheat too?" Toshi asked.

"The French I'm not sure about, but I doubt Dumbledore will." Dima said.

"You said Dumbledore is good at manipulation." Toshi countered.

"Yes, but Dumbledore isn't petty enough to try to manipulate a competition meant for teenagers. I don't think he would waste his time, or risk his reputation." Explained Dima. With a pause he added, "Makes you feel bad for the Hogwarts champion though, he's the only one playing fair."

"Speaking of the other champions," Toshi said, "shouldn't we go see what Harry's up against? I saw a bunch of Beauxbatons students on the way here having a picnic."

Vividly recalling the effect Veela charm had on him Dima asked, "Why them? What about the Hogwarts champion? Also why can't we do something else instead? I'm not one of your _shinobi_ or whatever."

"Well, for one" Toshi ticked off the reasons, "Harry and the Hogwarts students are in class so we can neither work with him nor can we observe the Hogwarts champion. Two, Harry will need all the help he can get to win since Karkaroff will favor Krum. Besides knowing your enemy is one of the keys to victory."

Dima snorted, "Since when did you become Sun Tzu?"

Toshi ignored the remark, "Three, you haven't done anything to help him so far besides dumping him on me for training, and you have no idea how much he whines. 'Toshi it's too early', 'Toshi I can't run so fast', 'Toshi I'm bleeding', 'Toshi you might have broken something'." Toshi's voice became a high pitched imitation of Harry, and Dima noted Toshi's right eyebrow began to twitch. Dima forced himself to suppress his smile while Toshi stopped to take a breath.

"Besides," he added with his voice now calmer, "I know you're not going to bother doing any more work later tonight, so I think it's fair if we put your often bragged about skills of political intrigue to use." Dima gaped, his mirth gone so fast a Dementor would have been impressed, "You mentioned that the Beauxbatons champion is the daughter of the French minister of foreign affairs right? I'm sure you can find something in common with her _Lord Dedede_." Toshi put emphasis on Dmitry's marauder nickname, which stemmed from the three D's of politics, with a sly grin. Dima could only gape at Toshi who looked like he was trying hard to maintain his stoic façade.

Taking Dima's silence as agreement, Toshi stood up and began walking toward the site of the French picnic. Dima could only follow in silence. Not only did Toshi just outmaneuver him, but he was about to make an idiot out of himself in front of the daughter of the French Foreign Minister. His father would most likely rip his head off at dinner.

And it was looking like such a beautiful day too.

_End._


End file.
